


At My Mercy

by LadyPenn (i_write_a_lot)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_a_lot/pseuds/LadyPenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean's nightmares begin to get worse, Castiel comes to help...while he's still dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At My Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> -Heavy implications of Dean/Cas
> 
> -Memories of Hell
> 
> -Traumatic Nightmares
> 
> -I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> -Um...comment? Please? This is my first Supernatural fic.

Dean woke with a gasp and a scream trapped in his throat. Half-falling out of bed, but clutching the edge of the night-table to save him in time, he stumbled to his feet and lurched to the bathroom before heaving violently into the toilet. He was grateful that Sam wasn’t in the room, and that it was just him there. He was completely alone right now.  
He’d dreamed he was old and that he was…well. Swallowing hard, his hand reached shakily for the alcohol that was sitting nearby for emergencies such as this-which grew more and more all the time. He took a long pull, loving the way that it burned on the way down, and felt himself slump against the toilet, relishing in its coolness.

The nightmares were getting worse.

Whatever was happening to him, he was positive that there were getting worse, because he kept waking up in worse states. Tonight had been a really bad one, and he wondered-briefly-if it was something about him being in hell. Shutting his eyes tight for a moment to try and ignore the onslaught of violent memories, he took a deep steadying breath, and opened them.

To find Castiel staring back at him. 

“Gah!” Dean jumped, startled, and scrambled to his feet. “What the hell, Castiel?” He demanded. “Where have you been?”

“I apologize for startling you, Dean.” Castiel said, sounding careful in his words. Dean frowned. “But you are…not awake. You are dreaming.” Castiel informed him. Dean paused. 

“It feels real,” He said, shifting uncomfortably. "What are you in my dreams for then?”

“I sensed you were having nightmares-I wished to assist you against them, especially since they were from your days in hell. You were also an old man?” Castiel asked, staring at him in puzzlement. 

“Long story.” Dean said sincerely. “REALLY long. So where are you?”

“I do not know,” Castiel muttered, sounding annoyed at that. “I am unconscious.” Dean stared at him.

 

“If you’re unconscious, then how the hell are you able to get into my dreams?”

“Because we are both asleep, and an angel still has some powers even when unconscious.” Castiel said simply. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay.” He said with a shake of his head. Castiel was stepping closer towards him, and Dean felt as though he didn’t mind, really. “Look, Cas…”

“Dean-this is a dream,” Castiel said to him softly, taking another step forward. “And dreams hold some truths to them.”  
Dean frowned.

“I don’t understand,” He admitted, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. And then Castiel decided to explain things by doing it actively instead of talking about it. 

Castiel wrapped his hands around Dean’s collar of his open shirt and pulled him to the nearest available wall-space. He then proceeded to gently hold Dean up against the wall and Dean was too surprised to fight, and instead carefully asked, 

“Cas? What are you doing?”

“Shh,” Castiel said softly, and then proceeded to press his lips against Deans.

Dean gasped at the contact, feeling a wave of intense pleasure and arousal from Castiel. From himself, he felt a number of different things: confused, surprised, pleased, worried, and even a bit frightened that this really was a dream.

Castiel’s tongue flickered against his lips, and Dean was aware of his hands roaming his chest, feeling the smoothness of the shirt that he was wearing. Dean could feel their legs being intertwined, and he couldn’t help but let loose a moan of ecstasy. 

“Remain quiet,” Castiel informed him, and Dean quieted down, unsure of if they were finally getting together or not. Castiel studied him for a second, and then smiled. “I have you, Dean Winchester, at my mercy-”

The door slammed in the room outside the bathroom, and Castiel vanished abruptly. Dean then found himself snapping awake as Sam began ranting angrily.  
“Dude, this damn thing sucked ass…” 

Dean groaned, rolling to the side of the bed. The change in the middle of his nightmares made him wonder if perhaps it hadn’t just been a different type of cruel dream because he was rock hard.

“Sammy, you’ve got the worst timing,” Dean muttered, reaching for the bottle of vodka he’d been drinking. Hang on a minute…

The dream came back in full rush mode, and something must’ve been on his face because Sam halted in his ranting and looked at Dean strangely. 

“Dude, are you all right?” He asked, sounding seriously worried. 

“Fine,” Dean said shortly, and made to go to the bathroom. “How’d it go?”

Sam studied him, apparently not buying that Dean was ‘fine’ but decided to change the subject anyway.

“…and that was when the Sherriff decided to show up as I was questing Chuck, because Chuck had apparently called the police saying that he’d been robbed, and-”  
Dean tuned his brother out, his thoughts turning back to the dream. Castiel was out there, somewhere. He was sure of it. Taking a deep breath, Dean stared at the wall where Castiel had held him up against it…and he realized with a start that there was a slight bump in the wall that hadn’t been there before. He traced it a bit, before shaking his head and heading back to Sam.

Castiel had him completely at his mercy.

And somehow, Dean didn’t mind it a bit.

End.


End file.
